One Good Man — Part Two: The Warning Before Destruction

There is another biblical story which has been occupying my thoughts.

It is the story of Jonah and Nineveh.

Unlike Abraham, Jonah is not negotiating with God over how many righteous people might be found within a wicked society.

Jonah is given a much simpler task.

He is told to go to Nineveh and warn its people that destruction is coming.

Jonah does not want to do it.

He runs away.

But eventually Jonah finds himself back on the path that God has chosen for him, and he goes to Nineveh.

He delivers the message.

The city is going to be destroyed.

And then something remarkable happens.

The people listen.

They recognise what they have been doing.

They repent.

And God does not destroy them.

The Purpose of a Warning

There is something important about this story which is very easily overlooked.

If destruction had been the only objective, there would have been no need for Jonah.

There would have been no need for a warning.

There would have been no need for the people of Nineveh to be told what was coming.

The warning itself created an opportunity.

It gave the people the possibility of changing their behaviour before the consequences arrived.

That is what a warning is supposed to do.

A warning is not necessarily a threat.

It can be an act of mercy.

It says:

You are heading in the wrong direction. You still have time to change course.

That distinction matters to me.

Because I have experienced what I regard as profound wrongdoing at the hands of the Jersey justice system. I have every reason to be angry about what has happened to me.

But anger does not have to lead to vengeance.

There is another possibility.

I can tell the people responsible that I believe they have done wrong.

I can explain why I believe it was wrong.

I can show them the consequences of what they have done.

And then I can give them the opportunity to change.

Repentance

Repentance is a difficult concept for modern institutions.

Individuals can repent.

Religious traditions have spent thousands of years discussing repentance.

But institutions seem to find it much harder.

An institution does not like admitting that it was wrong.

It does not like admitting that one of its decisions caused harm.

It does not like admitting that one of its officials made a serious mistake.

And it particularly does not like admitting that the problem might be systemic rather than individual.

Instead, the institution protects itself.

The decision is defended.

The official is defended.

The procedure is defended.

The previous decision is cited to justify the next decision.

And eventually the original question is forgotten.

The question was simply:

Was this right?

That is the question which institutions need to be able to answer honestly.

Not:

Can we find a way of defending what happened?

Not:

Can we find a procedural reason why we don't have to reconsider it?

Not:

Can we explain why the person complaining is difficult?

But:

Was this actually right?

The Offer Still Stands

This is why I am prepared to offer something which people might not expect from somebody who has suffered the sort of treatment that I have experienced.

I am prepared to offer forgiveness.

I am prepared to offer the possibility of repentance.

I am prepared to accept an honest acknowledgement of wrongdoing.

I am prepared to accept that people make mistakes.

I am prepared to accept that people can make mistakes while genuinely believing that they are doing the right thing.

I am prepared to accept that institutions can become dysfunctional without everybody within them being malicious.

But there has to be honesty.

There has to be recognition.

There has to be a willingness to change.

Repentance does not mean saying that something was unfortunate.

It does not mean saying that somebody has misunderstood what happened.

It does not mean producing another explanation for why the original decision was supposedly reasonable.

Repentance means recognising that something was wrong.

And then doing something about it.

Why I Keep Speaking

Some people might therefore ask why I continue to speak about these things.

Why continue to challenge institutions?

Why continue to raise matters which could simply be forgotten?

Why not move on?

The answer is simple.

Because I have not yet received the answer that I believe justice requires.

And because silence would make the warning pointless.

If Jonah had arrived at Nineveh, delivered his message and then decided that it would be more comfortable not to tell anybody what was happening, the people of Nineveh would have lost their opportunity to change.

A warning that is never delivered is not a warning.

It is merely knowledge kept to oneself.

So I will continue to speak.

Not because I want to destroy the institutions that have wronged me.

Quite the opposite.

I want them to become better.

I want the Jersey justice system to become worthy of the name.

I want public servants to understand the responsibilities that come with public power.

I want lawyers to remember that justice is more important than commercial convenience.

I want politicians to understand that they are representatives of the public rather than performers in a political theatre.

And I want the people who have made mistakes to have the courage to admit them.

Before Destruction

That is why I think the story of Jonah is so important.

The warning comes before the destruction.

The opportunity for repentance comes before the consequences.

There is still time to change.

There is still time to acknowledge what has happened.

There is still time to correct mistakes.

There is still time to make the system better.

I do not know whether the people and institutions I criticise will ever accept that opportunity.

That is ultimately their decision.

But I am prepared to make the offer.

They can continue to defend every decision simply because admitting an error is uncomfortable.

Or they can stop.

They can look honestly at what has happened.

They can ask whether it was right.

And if it was not right, they can say so.

That is not weakness.

It is not defeat.

It is repentance.

And repentance is not the destruction of a person or an institution.

It is the possibility of saving it.

That is the lesson of Nineveh.

The warning was given because destruction was not inevitable.

There was still a choice.

And perhaps that is the choice that every society eventually faces.

Continue down the path that has been chosen, or stop and change direction.

I have chosen to give Jersey that warning.

The question now is whether Jersey will listen.